


Waiting Game

by LaLionne (otayuriistheliteralbest)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Happy Birthday Lance!, M/M, best buddy hunk, shance, sharpshooter zine, sweet innocent pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 01:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15474522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/pseuds/LaLionne
Summary: Lance isn’t what most consider to be the first pick of teaching assistants for an advanced Psychology course. He is full of so much energy, he draws all the attention in a room in a way that is distracting to the extreme. He had flirted his way through most of his Freshman and Sophomore years, and he still knows how to flip the charm like a switch, but by the beginning of his Junior year he has managed to mellow out. He is still filled with boundless energy, but he puts it to good use from time to time.And then he meets Shiro.





	Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SharkGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/gifts).



> This fic was written for the Sharpshooter Zine, which is a free PDF download available now! Happy birthday, Lance!

Lance isn’t what most consider to be the first pick of teaching assistants for an advanced Psychology course. He is full of so much energy, he draws all the attention in a room in a way that is distracting to the extreme. He had flirted his way through most of his Freshman and Sophomore years, and he still knows how to flip the charm like a switch, but by the beginning of his Junior year he has managed to mellow out. He is still filled with boundless energy, but he puts it to good use from time to time.

He had just finished setting up his workstation to the side of the lecture hall exactly the way he likes it - including his sparkly pink pencil with an oversized unicorn eraser to throw people off for funsies - when the incoming murmur of chattering students signals that class will begin shortly. He sighs and clears his head, then turns to face the room with a big, bright smile to welcome in the new round of students.

Professor Allura - she hates to be called by her last name - stands prim and neat in the front of the room, hands clasped tightly behind her so that the incoming students can’t see them tremble. For all that she doesn’t show it, her nerves light up at the beginning of a new course, something that the young professor had only admitted to Lance under highest of secrecy one night when he happened across her at the local bar and they were both completely wasted. He savors the memory.

Allura nods to Lance, queueing up the first lecture of the semester on her laptop. Students begin to file in and claim their spots for the semester, a mixture of freshmen and upperclassmen taking up seats in the lecture hall. Lance can tell just from where they sit, most of the time, what year they are in. Eager freshmen in the front or allllll the way in the back, and the older and more wizened students taking up seats somewhere in the middle.

Lance’s eyes light on a guy in the middle. Clearly an upperclassman, with his splash of white hair that may just be an odd choice of a dye job, but Lance can’t be sure from the distance. He has muscles on his muscles and clearly enjoys time in the gym. Lance thinks he would enjoy time at the gym watching the guy lift weights. He sits two rows up and on the right, very close to Lance’s TA desk, in a seat next to the wall. The guy is bent over in his seat rifling through his backpack for his notebook and a pen. Silver wire-rimmed glasses perch precariously on his nose, an interesting and far-too-attractive-for-his-own-good addition to the guy’s overall look.

Allura clears her throat on the dais and begins the course, introducing Lance to the class.

“Any questions you have throughout the course, reach out to myself or Lance,” Allura says. “We are here to help, and the most important part of this course is that we truly want you to _learn_ something from it.”

Lance smiles warmly at the students, but his attention is captivated by the guy, who responds as Takashi Shirogane to the roll call, or “Shiro” as he quietly corrects Allura.

Lance spends the rest of the hour distracted by the way the light catches in Shiro’s hair, how he bites his tongue as he copies down notes, trying his best to focus on Allura’s lecture. Lance is knowledgeable enough on the subject that when Allura asks for his input on the lecture, it’s easy enough for him to glance at the slide she’s on and say something at least slightly meaningful, but he’s sure that the professor has noticed, even if the students don’t. He blushes and tries to pay more attention when Allura gives him a stern look the second time she catches his mind wandering. 

At the end of the hour, Lance packs up his bags and waves goodbye to Allura. As he’s about to walk out the door, he stumbles over his untied shoelace and would have gone sprawling, if not for the muscled arm that shoots out in front of him to catch him.

“Woah, there!” his rescuer says.

Lance looks up, and up, and up, and there in front of him, his rescuer is none other than Shiro himself, smiling down at Lance as if he doesn’t know that that smile could bring a man back to life.

“Th-thanks,” Lance stutters, righting himself.

“I’m Shiro,” he says, but Lance knows, he knows the name because now it’s stuck on a track in his mind.

“I know,” he replies, and cringes at himself. “I-I mean, I heard your name during roll call at the beginning of class.”

“Yeah, right.” Shiro scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, see you around, Lance.”

“S-see you,” Lance says. Shiro gives him one last smile and walks out the door, Lance staring unashamedly at his butt as he walks away from him.

\---

“I can’t handle it, Hunk!” Lance cries out, flopping down to the sofa in their dorm room. It’s midterms, and three times a week, Lance finds himself stuck staring at the gorgeous sharp lines of Takashi Shirogane’s stupidly beautiful face.

“What can’t you handle, buddy?” Hunk asks absentmindedly from his desk. He’s running through equations for his Adaptive Materials and Systems midterm and not paying attention to Lance’s lamentations. He learned early on in their friendship to tune out most of Lance’s romance woes.

“Shiro is too beautiful for this _world_ , Hunk! I can’t stand it!” Lance flails on the couch, long limbs splayed out until he’s hanging upside down with his knees hooked over the back of the sofa. He stares at the back of Hunk’s head, willing him to turn around. “Every time I see him my heart beats so much faster, and I swear he knows it. He moved to the front row of the lecture hall, directly in front of my desk; _no one_ moves seats. It’s, like, a cardinal rule of university!”

Hunk sighs, knowing he won’t get any work done until he ends this conversation. He spins in his desk chair to face Lance, rolling his eyes when he sees his friend hanging upside down like a monkey.

“Just ask him out on a date, Lance. I bet you anything he’s noticed your crush, and if you just ask him out on a date, you’ll stop badgering me about the curls in his hair and the way his muscles move when he raises his hand to answer a question.”

Lance sputters. “I can’t just _ask him out on a date_!”

“Why not?” Hunk asks.

“Because….because what if he doesn’t like guys?”

“I dunno, the way you describe him definitely makes me think you have a shot,” Hunk replies. “If you don’t ask him, I’ll do it for you.”

Lance jerks and falls off of the couch in a heap. He pops upright on the ground. “You wouldn’t!”

“I definitely would,” Hunk threatens. “You’re eating into my study time and its midterms. Your crazy love life is not my top priority with Professor Iverson breathing down my neck." 

Lance slumps down and pulls the hood of his Garrison U sweater over his head, pulling the strings to hide his face from Hunk.

“But what if he says no?” Lance’s question is muffled by the fabric of the hoodie.

“Then he says no. But you won’t know until you ask,” Hunk says kindly. “Now I have to get back to my AdMat midterm, so...good luck, buddy!” He swivels back around in his chair to get back to work.

\---

Lance is psyching himself up. He knows he is, but he can’t help it, he’s nervous. He sits at his TA desk grading midterm papers during class, but his mind is elsewhere as he jiggles his leg, trying to expel his nerves.

Before he knows it, the class is over and students are filing out of the classroom. Allura plops another stack of papers on his desk with a sigh.

“This should be the last of the papers, Lance,” she says. “Thank you for taking care of these for me. I am sure you are quite busy in your own coursework.”

Lance rubs his eyes quickly and flashes a smile at her.

“Not a problem, Professor. I don’t have too many left to grade, so I should have these done for you by Monday.”

“Don’t work yourself too hard, Lance,” Allura says, returning his smile. “I have to get ready for my next class, have a good weekend.”

“See you Monday!” Lance says cheerily. He doesn’t watch as she gathers up her papers and laptop, instead focusing on collecting his own belongings and putting the stapled midterm papers into a folder. He’s about to shove the folder in his messenger bag when a noise brings him out of his thoughts, and the folder - along with all of the papers he still needs to grade - spill out of his bag and onto the floor.

He curses, dropping hurriedly to his knees to gather up the fallen papers and praying that none of them break free of their staples. Another pair of hands enters his field of vision, and Lance glances up. His eyes widen at the sight of his own personal distraction, Shiro, kneeling on the floor next to him, helping him gather up the midterms.

“Sorry, I thought you knew I was here,” Shiro says. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Lance looks down, blushing and silently cursing himself.

“It’s fine, it isn’t your fault. My mind was just elsewhere. It happens,” he replies, and then winces. In his rush to pick up the papers, Lance has managed to give himself the king of all papercuts. The stack of papers flutters back down to the floor as he examines his hand.

“You okay?” Shiro asks, grabbing for Lance’s hand. He turns it over in his hands and sees the blood pooling on the tip of Lance’s pointer finger and, seemingly without thinking, he raises the finger to his mouth and sucks on the wound. Shiro blinks, suddenly remembering where he is, and practically shoves Lance’s hand away. Now _he’s_ the one blushing furiously.

“Shit, s-sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. My mom always said to suck on paper cuts because they’d heal faster, and I just saw it and I didn’t think, I just did it, and god you probably think that I’m so _weird--_ ”

“Do you want to go out with me?” Lance cuts him off. Shiro’s eyes widen, his lips parted as he processes what Lance had said.

“I--what?”

Lance runs his uninjured hand over his short-cropped hair. “Do you want to go out with me? Like, on a date?”

Shiro bites his lip. “I-I would love to.”

Lance grins, a quirked smile that raises one side of his mouth. He decides to try his luck. The guy had just been sucking on his finger, after all. “In that case...can I kiss you?”

Shiro’s breath hitches at the request, and he subconsciously leans in closer to Lance.

“ _Please_.”

The midterm papers lie forgotten on the floor as Lance closes the distance between them.

Grading can wait.


End file.
